


The Contract

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Fairytales [7]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Bullying, Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Contracts, Mild Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27995700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: Fantasy AU in which Sephiroth is king of the fae and Claudia makes a pact with him to save herself and her newborn from starvation. Told in six parts.I’ve only rated this Teen for the underage elements of this fic. It’s weirdly fluffy for me, but wouldn’t leave me alone. So here you are.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Series: Fairytales [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1168568
Comments: 14
Kudos: 118





	The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> While not as dark as my usual fare, please be aware that this fic isn’t exactly a fairytale. Some dub-con themes and underage interactions—as we see Cloud grow up and Sephiroth is ageless. Cloud only reaches the age of 16. There is a mention of masturbation and some consensual kissing/touching.

He was a baby the first time they met. Not even three weeks old, the blonde infant snuggled against his mother’s breast, rocked to comfort in the sling. His small face was red from tears but relaxed now from the motion. His mother’s milk was thin and almost dry from hunger, and her child couldn’t seem to drink his fill.

As an unwed mother, Claudia had no help from her fellow villagers. She’d walked right into the fae’s lair, desperate and close to starving.

“Please. I will do _anything_. I can’t watch my baby starve! Please help me,” she cried.

And so, he took pity. There would be a heavy price to pay for any services rendered. The young mother should have known better. She should have known that in exchange for his assistance, he would take what was most dear to her. He couldn’t help his curiosity when he spied the fluffy blonde hair sticking out of the sling.

“Let me see the child,” he said. As king of the fae, he was required to marry a faerie of his own making. His court had been nagging him about finding a mate—a human mate—who could be transformed for that purpose.

The mother pulled the blanket aside, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the baby's perfect face. Startling blue eyes peered up at him and a soft, sleepy coo spilled from the cherub’s lips. He could see at once the gorgeous creature the baby would become—but what drew the most interest was the child’s aura. Gold, like his hair, shimmered and sparkled around him like magic—unlike any other human he’d ever met.

“His father?” Sephiroth asked. “Who is the father?”

Claudia pursed her lips, refusing to answer. He felt waves of discomfort roiling off her body, as well as strong instincts to protect the child from danger and harm.

“Does it matter? My village never knew him. He passed before we married. I’m the village pariah now,” she replied.

“I suppose it does not. But your child has a mysterious aura. A magical aura. He is worth saving.”

“He is _more_ than worth saving,” she insisted. “Please. I know you are fae. You can help me. You have the power to help me provide for him.”

“And you will exchange anything for my help?” His silver hair fluttered in the breeze, escaping from his black hood. It had been some years since the fae king had traveled in the apparent realm. He wasn’t used to hiding his true form. "You realize we take what is most precious to you in exchange."

“ _Anything_. Please, just help me.”

“As you wish.” The king straightened up after running his hands through silky blonde hair. “When you return to your home, you will find livestock. The cow will provide you sustenance with her milk. The sheep will provide wool for clothing. The chickens will lay daily until the child comes of age.”

“Thank you!” She cried. “I knew you would help me!”

She didn’t think to ask the price, so desperate was she for nourishment. She reached out her hand, and the king of the fae took it. He pressed a sharp claw into her palm and squeezed it between his fingers. Their blood mingled in a secret pact, sending magical energy up her arm. The feeling reminded her of a Cure or the effects of a potion. The fae’s eyes glowed bright and green—unearthly in their beauty and their narrowed pupils.

“So be it. The contract is established. When the child is of age, I will collect him.”

“Wait— _what_?”

“That is my price. I will save you both, but you will owe me your firstborn in return.”

“No!” She pulled her hand from his firm grip, but it was already too late. “You _can’t_! He’s all I have!”

“You will have him until he comes of age,” the fae replied. “Enjoy him each and every day—treasure him—and understand that your future sacrifice is what saved him from starving before your eyes.”

“But please!”

Sephiroth’s teeth glimmered like pearls beneath his hood. She never even got a good look at his face. Only the flash of pointed fangs, beautiful eyes, and a majestic length of silver hair remained imprinted in her mind and future nightmares. He dissolved into shimmering green dust once he turned away from her and the child.

She had no choice, she told herself. At least she did what she had to do for her child. And when she returned to her run-down out the outskirts of Nibelheim, the livestock was waiting for her as he’d promised.

* * *

The second time they met, Cloud was a toddler. Once he learned to walk, he would wander, much to his mother’s chagrin. She was used to the child following her, holding her apron strings for balance as she worked with the animals. She’d cream butter and make cheese, selling the extra at the market. The sheep had the finest wool, which she also sold. The hens laid eggs every day, with enough to feed many more than the two of them, so she sold the excess.

She was at the weekend market, trading with the people of the village who hated to give her business but needed her wares. While his mother haggled with the mayor, Cloud toddled away from the stall.

Sephiroth stood at the outskirts of the market and hadn’t intended to approach. When he spied the fluff of blonde hair and the cheerful smile—all but ignored by the other vendors—he knew at once that the boy was _his_. How could the villagers ignore a gorgeous child like that? What kind of mother would allow such a precious charge to escape her grasp? Even then, he was sure he’d made the right choice.

Radiating trust only a child could have, the boy met his gaze beneath the hood of his cloak. His blue eyes remained as clear as the summer sky, long blonde lashes fluttering against the bright sunlight. The child's aura was the same magical gold as he remembered. It enchanted him.

“Hello, little one,” the fae whispered, holding out his hand.

The child reached up to grab his fingers, startled by a tendril of long, silver hair escaping from beneath the hood. He cooed in delight when the fae lifted the child in his arms. Lowering his nose to the blonde’s neck, Sephiroth could smell summer fields. As a toddler, his fair looks and sparkling aura set him apart from the other dull humans in this lifeless village.

“Must I wait till you come of age?” The fae mused. “What is your name?”

The child couldn’t respond in anything but babble. However, the fae could sense that the toddler already knew his name. _Cloud_ , he seemed to say.

“Cloud?” The fae confirmed.

“Clow!” The toddler insisted, giggling at the brush of hair against his neck. “Pree!”

“You think my hair is pretty? You are lovely, too.”

Sephiroth landed a kiss on the top of the fluffy blonde head, sticking up in all directions. It felt soft as silk. He could hardly wait to steal him away from the mortal realm.

“Now, return to your ma and be good for her,” he said, putting the child on the ground.

For a moment, Cloud stared up at him, the sunlight glittering in his hair and his eyes. He smiled—an innocent, _perfect_ smile—and reached his hands up to ask to be held once more.

“Up?” He asked.

“You are mine, yes, but it is not yet time. Grow into the man you will become, Cloud. I will come back for you.”

Though it was hard to turn away from the pretty little child, Sephiroth did just that. Only when he was at the edge of the forest did he turn back. The child had toddled back to his mother, glowing like a beacon in the crowd. The fae king barely heard the child’s mother, scolding him for wandering away.

* * *

The third time they met was after Cloud’s disastrous first day of school. The schoolhouse was a single classroom, and the child looked different from the other dark-haired, dark-eyed children. He’d been bullied on the first day, though he hadn’t realized at first what was happening.

“What is a whore?” He asked one of the boys who’d called his mother that word.

“It means she sells her body. Your father was probably one of her clients.”

“My mother sells milk, butter, and cheese. Eggs and wool, too,” Cloud insisted, scratching his head in confusion.

“You don’t belong here,” another child said. “You make our town _dirty_.”

“I took a bath before school!” Cloud was incensed. His mother had insisted he bathe that morning, and he’d left the house with his skin pink and raw from her scrubbing. He was old enough to wash himself without her help, he thought.

“You look funny and your clothes are weird, too.”

“My mother made these!”

The argument quickly devolved into pushing and shoving, the smaller child ending up in the dirt—ruining his new outfit with mud. His hair was pulled and his knees were scratched. He gave up fighting the bigger children, realizing that fighting back would only provoke them further. His face was dusty and dirty, aside from the tear tracks streaking down his cheeks.

The fae king arrived too late to interfere. But he was filled with anger at the sight of his precious boy beaten and low. A flutter in his heart—a feeling he’d heard of, read about, but never before experienced in all his centuries—sent crushing pain through his body. He did not _like_ others messing with his future spouse.

Sephiroth never felt the need to soothe. The fae were not known for mercy or compassion. Royalty, in particular, was known for being ruthless and mischievous. So his feelings shattered something inside him as he watched the boy’s golden glow shimmer with the orange glow of rage and injustice.

“Get up,” he said, once he approached the small child lying in the dirt on the ground. Despite his better judgment, the fae reached out a hand to help him up. He was amazed at the small, delicate hand that took his gloved hand so trustingly. Sapphire eyes framed with lush, blonde lashes stared up at him in wonder.

“Who are you?” The boy asked.

“My name is Sephiroth,” the king replied.

“You’re not from here,” Cloud commented. He allowed the man to help dust off his clothes and wipe his tears. He liked the stranger already. Even the adults of Nibelheim avoided him.

“You should stand up for yourself. You are worth much more than them.”

“What?” Cloud asked in awe.

“Come,” the fae said, releasing his hand and letting the boy follow him into the forest. The boy was obedient and compliant, Sephiroth was pleased to see. He would make a great husband.

“Ma says to come home right after school,” Cloud remarked, even as he followed the fae into the woods.

“And you should. But first, I’d like to talk to you.”

“Okay. But no one ever wants to talk to me.”

“That is, Cloud, because you are special. You are marked as mine. You will belong to me when you are older.”

“You know my name?” Cloud asked, somewhat perplexed.

“I met you when you were a mere infant at your mother’s breast,” the fae said, watching the child’s expressive face. His mouth pursed into an adorable pout—one that reminded Sephiroth of the toddler he’d last seen.

“ _Gross_ ,” Cloud replied. He hadn’t been at his mother’s breast for many years. He was a big boy now.

The fae simply smiled. They spent the afternoon together in the forest—talking about the plants and animals. Cloud marveled when a butterfly landed on the fae’s hand and was even more impressed when the finches approached. The fae transferred the bird carefully to Cloud’s small fingers.

“How'd you _do_ that?” He asked with amazement, eyes glowing with excitement.

“I am not of this world,” the fae explained. “One day, you will no longer be part of it, either.”

“I know that. People die. My dad died before I was even born,” Cloud moped.

“Not like that. You will never die,” the fae explained patiently. “You will be mine—and we will live forever in the realm of the fae.”

“Fae? You’re a _faerie_?!” Cloud could not suppress his excitement. He had always loved fairytales and the ones about fae folk were his favorite.

“I am. And you will be, too, once you are mine.”

“I don't _want_ to wait. Can I go with you now?” Sephiroth was amazed that even the boy’s whine was adorable.

“Not yet. I made a promise to your mother.”

“You know Ma?”

The fae nodded.

“But you must keep this meeting a secret from her.”

“I will,” Cloud insisted. He liked the responsibility of keeping a secret—something to enjoy all his own.

“Now, you’d best be getting home.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Cloud asked hopefully.

“Not tomorrow, but soon. When the time is right.” The fae gestured toward’s Cloud’s home and crossed his arms. “Go now.”

“M-kay. Bye!”

Sephiroth watched with satisfaction as the smiling child ran back to his home. He could hardly wait.

* * *

The fourth time the fae met his intended was several years later. The school was out for summer and it was the boy’s tenth birthday. His mother was in the house, putting the final decorations on his special birthday cake while Cloud sulked on the porch. He picked himself up and wandered into the forest alone, dejected and alone.

Sephiroth felt the boy’s sorrow and disappointment before he approached. Once Cloud was within his sight, the fae could see a blue tinge overlapping and interweaving with the gold aura, indicating the child’s loneliness. _I’ve come at the right time,_ the fae thought.

“You—you’re _real_!” Cloud exclaimed when he noticed Sephiroth among the trees.

“I am,” the fae replied.

The lonely sorrow on the boy’s face melted into a smile when he met Sephiroth’s green eyes. His cheeks remained rounded and sweet, and his nose was dusted with pale freckles.

“I thought I’d dreamed you up that time,” Cloud said. “I’m glad to see you today.”

“You are sad,” the fae remarked.

Cloud nodded.

“It’s my birthday and no one wants to celebrate with me,” he said sadly. “Not even Tifa and she is nice to _everyone_.”

Sephiroth did not reply and let the boy continue his tale.

“She said she wouldn’t come because it would be too boring. And her dad doesn’t like my mom. He says she’s a bad _affluence_.”

“Influence,” the fae corrected the child.

“What?”

“The word you want is influence.”

“But she isn’t a bad _anything_!” Cloud retorted. “She’s my mom and she loves me. She works hard for me.”

“That is true. She sacrificed what was most dear to her for your sake, Cloud.”

“She loves me,” Cloud said again.

“It’s a special day today, isn’t it?” Sephiroth asked.

“Uh-huh. I’m ten today. I’m almost a grown-up.”

Sephiroth smiled at that. Not too much longer before the boy would be his.

“Indeed. I have a gift for you.”

Never before had he seen the boy brighten so much. It was a dazzling smile that reached his eyes. The fae felt its magic and power and was bowled over. He breathed out a heavy exhale to steady his emotions. Yes, the boy had been the right choice. He would be worth the wait.

“What?! What is it? No one has ever given me a present before! Well, besides Mom.” Cloud looked around hopefully.

“You are old enough now to have your own protector,” the fae said. “He will grow attached to you and keep you safe when I am not here.”

Opening his robe, he pulled out the child’s gift. It was a wolf pup. Still tiny, the small animal was covered in silver fur and had green eyes, so similar to the fae’s own. The child gasped in delight and held out his hands. The puppy whined when Cloud hugged him tightly to his chest.

“Careful now,” Sephiroth said, amused. “He is small now, but he will grow up to be a large wolf and will protect you. He is magic. He will obey you and those you trust.”

Suddenly, Cloud’s face fell.

“Mom won’t let me keep him,” he said miserably. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten and I won’t be able to keep him!”

“Why ever not?”

“Wolves might eat the chickens. And when he gets bigger, he might eat the sheep, too.”

“Cloud, this is a magical creature. He will only eat what you allow him to eat. If you don’t wish him to eat the chickens, he will obey you. He is a pet fit for the future consort of the fae king. His name is Fenrir.”

“Fenrir,” Cloud mused, holding the puppy up in his arms and looking him in the eye. “Oh, his eyes look like yours. And his fur is the same color as your hair. I _love_ him!”

“His looks come from the enchantment. He will keep you safe from harm until I return to collect you myself.”

The fae allowed himself to lean down and ruffle the boy’s hair. Even longer now and wilder, the human child looked more beautiful every passing day.

“Go home and enjoy the time you have left with your mother,” Sephiroth said.

Cloud smiled brightly and excitedly.

“Thank you so much!” He turned to head home but froze in his footsteps before departing. “Will I see you again soon?”

Sephiroth smiled and nodded as he pulled up his hood.

“Not so long this time, okay?” Cloud asked, not hiding the pleading in his voice.

“Our time will come soon,” Sephiroth soothed. “Then, you will never part from me.”

“Okay! Bye!”

Sephiroth watched as the boy ran back toward his home, biding his time with less patience than before.

* * *

The fifth time the fae met his intended, Cloud was fourteen. Now an adolescent, he had grown a few inches since the last time they’d met. In addition to the height, his blossoming sexuality differed from Nibelheim's conservative norms. He couldn’t deny that the memories of times he’d met with the fae had his insides twisted in knots. He had been told what he felt was aberrant and sinful. Rather, he should feel these urges at the sight of Tifa’s blossoming figure and her large breasts, like the other boys. But he didn’t. He only ever fantasized about his special silver-haired friend.

It was past midnight, after a particularly trying day at school. The weather had shifted to autumn, the leaves turning from orange to red, gorgeously subdued under the pale light of the full moon. As Cloud gazed out of his small attic room’s window, he mused that the color of the light reminded him of the fae—still his secret, still his friend, still his desire.

His only friend, Fenrir, had grown into a full-sized silver Nibel wolf. When Cloud wasn't at school, Fenrir kept his bullies at bay, along with the rest of the terrified village. While his mother balked when he’d first brought him home, when she saw how sweet the puppy was and how much joy his presence brought her son, she couldn’t deny him his happiness. His mother wouldn’t let such a young puppy sleep out in the cold, away from his littermates and family. So she helped her son take care of him.

Fenrir sat obediently at the foot of Cloud’s bed, his large head resting on Cloud’s feet over the quilt. He sighed softly, huffing in sympathy as if he could feel his master’s worries.

Cloud sighed too, leaning back against the headboard. Thinking over the day at school, he was frustrated with himself. He pressed a hand to his left eye, which was bruised and swollen from the latest scuffle. He hadn’t started it. Much to his surprise, Tifa hadn’t stepped in on his behalf, either. Ever since the accident three years earlier, they hadn’t been on speaking terms. It wasn’t Cloud’s fault—but the truth didn’t keep the entire town from turning against him. She had wandered into the woods and he followed, hoping to keep her safe. But when the bridge broke and Cloud fell from the cliff in his attempt to rescue Tifa, he regained consciousness first and was blamed for the accident. His wolf and his fae were his only comfort.

 _Sephiroth_ , he thought. _Did I simply dream him up all those years ago? Didn’t he promise not to stay away so long this time?_ Cloud’s eyes burned at the thought and to his mortification, tears spilled from them. _Stop it,_ he rebuked himself. _You’re too old for fairytales or tears._ The silver fae was probably just a conjuring of his imagination, he knew. A friendless child who buried himself in the world of fantasy. Without any other hobbies—aside from helping his mom with the small farm that was his entire world—he spent all his free time with his nose buried in books of legends and fairytales. Upon seeing Cloud buried in one of his favorite books, the teacher rebuked him in front of the entire class, calling him out for living up to his name.

“You always have had your head in the clouds. How fitting,” she snarked.

At the unkind comment, Cloud barely restrained his emotion, holding back his tears till he returned home. Even two years ago, the boy knew he was too old to cry as a result of a scolding. He’d be in for even worse bullying from his peers if he allowed himself to break down in front of them. After school was out, he flew in the front door and up to his bedroom instead of tending the afternoon chores. Ignoring his mother’s voice, he slammed the door behind him and spilled all the tears in private.

“I didn’t make him up. He is _real_. He is _not_ a dream,” Cloud whispered—both then and now, four years later.

Fenrir whined at his master’s desolation, but then his ears suddenly flicked up. The wolf jumped off the bed and rushed to the window. He placed both paws on the sill and whimpered, looking back at Cloud eagerly with his ears perked. Cloud went to the window to peer into the backyard. To his utter surprise and delight, a familiar dark-cloaked figure waited below. When he pushed the hood from his head, long, silver hair floated all around, reflecting platinum in the moonlight.

“Sephiroth!” Cloud breathed, and he hurried downstairs with the wolf at his heels, pulling on his coat and shoving his feet into his boots. Careful not to wake his mother, he headed out the backdoor with a smile on his face.

“My dear, sweet Cloud,” the slender man whispered. “How much you have grown! It’s good to see you again.” Sephiroth leaned down to pet Fenrir, who greeted him like an old friend. That was unusual, Cloud thought, since Fenrir was usually wary of strangers and he was such a young puppy when Sephiroth had first given him to Cloud.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud mumbled, trying to resist the urge to fall into the taller man’s arms.

He was _real_. The fae was _not_ a dream—no figment of his imagination—though he looked like a magical creature from another realm. Ethereal beauty and softness flowed from the man, sparkling like a halo around his body. Had he always been so tall? Cloud thought it was because he was only a child the last time he’d laid eyes on him. But the man towered over him.

“Come,” the fae whispered, taking Cloud’s hand.

A subtle tremor shivered up Cloud’s arm when the fae’s soft leather gloves touched him. He let his secret friend lead him away from the house and into the woods. Sephiroth seemed to glide across the forest floor, his boots barely crumpling the leaves beneath his feet. The only sounds were from Cloud’s feet and the soft padding of the wolf’s. Cloud had never noticed that before—how unearthly even the fae’s steps were, as if he were part of another dimension, or as if he were one with nature. The moon shone through the canopy of the trees, highlighting the long, straight silver hair as the wind gently teased the strands. It was so long—past his waist nearly to the back of his knees.

The adolescent felt embarrassed when the chilly night air rustled through his worn flannel pajamas. He felt so very exposed in front of his special friend, especially when the glowing green gaze sharpened in his direction. He couldn’t help his young body’s response to the touch on his shoulder as he felt his underwear tighten as blood rushed into his lower half.

He’d had a crush on this person for as long as he could remember. For a while, Cloud thought it was because he was the only person who was kind to him who wasn’t his family. And for a brief moment, he worried that the fae might actually _be_ family. His mother never spoke of Cloud’s father. The thought that Sephiroth might be checking on him because Cloud was half-fae terrified and sickened him.

“It’s been a long time,” Cloud said, and the words came out in a much more accusing tone than he’d intended. He was lonely and angry at being left alone for so long, but he hadn’t meant to sound needy or resentful. _It wasn’t right,_ he thought.

“It has. Time flows differently in my realm than in yours. Otherwise, I could never be so patient,” the fae said, settling down among the leaves with his back against a large oak tree. Fenrir sank to Sephiroth’s side, resting his head in the fae’s lap.

Cloud allowed himself to be pulled down next to the larger man. They sat close enough so their thighs touched. Another shiver skated down his spine when the fae brushed his fingers through the blonde spikes.

“Patient? What do you have to be patient about?”

“Soon, I will take you with me,” Sephiroth said. “You belong to my kingdom. You belong to me.”

“Won't you take me with you now? I _hate_ it here,” Cloud griped, leaning against the muscular shoulder beside him. Strands of hair tickled his neck, and he leaned into Sephiroth’s tender caress.

“You should be feeling it soon,” Sephiroth remarked. “You have been promised to me.”

“Promised...?” Cloud didn’t understand the words. He _hoped_ he understood, but it couldn’t be what he thought.

“Yes. When you come of age, I will return for you. You will be transformed. You will be mine—body and soul.”

 _I’d like that_ , Cloud thought. He wanted to belong somewhere, to someone. But the thoughts of his parentage ran through his mind once more, and he pulled away from the comfort of the beautiful, ageless stranger beside him.

“What is it, puppet?”

“I just—um, I don’t know.”

“You are mine,” Sephiroth repeated. “It is written in the stars.”

“Yours?” Cloud asked.

“My partner. I will turn you fae when you come to my realm. You will stay by my side till the end of days. Till this planet burns to ash.”

A _partner_? Cloud could hardly breathe. But he had to confirm.

“Your partner?” Cloud was proud of himself for not stammering, as hard as his heart pounded in his chest.

“My _spouse_ , my dear child. You will be mine, body and soul.” The words were repeated with a tenderness that brought tears to Cloud's eyes, and his heart squeezed with relief. But the feelings were painful, too. Impatience welled in Cloud’s body. He wanted _details_. He wanted to go with Sephiroth _now_.

“Why? Why me? When? Why do I have to wait?”

“Cloud.” The way Sephiroth spoke his name, as if it were familiar on his tongue, as if his next breath depended on Cloud’s attention, filled Cloud with lust and heat. The boy’s cheeks burned, and Sephiroth touched his face with the back of a supple leather glove. “I cannot tell you everything. Not yet.”

“Please,” Cloud begged. “ _Please_.”

Sephiroth smiled.

“I made an agreement with your mother, an official betrothal. It was when I first met you as an infant at your mother’s breast. You were three weeks old at the time. I knew you’d be mine—that you were destined for greatness—when I laid eyes on you.”

“Wait a minute,” Cloud said, pulling away from the comforting, hypnotic touch of the older man. A flash of disappointment flooded his chest. He’d thought he was _special_. He'd thought that Sephiroth was his _secret_ , his private friend. “My mom knows about this? About us? About you?”

“She does not know I have been checking on you. You were an investment of sorts, I suppose.”

Cloud’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t look like that, pet,” Sephiroth soothed with a smile. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. For now, you must wait till the right time. We must have perfect timing. It’s like a harvest, I suppose.” The green eyes flickered at the words, and Cloud couldn’t help licking his lips. The fae’s mouth curved up in a smile. “You feel it, don’t you?”

“Um, what?”

“Come, Cloud. I can see it radiating from you. It shimmers in your aura. You need not lie to me.”

“My aura?”

“Indeed. I saw your aura as an infant—golden and beautiful and pure. Over the years, it’s been tinted in various shades. Tonight, the distinct rosy shade of lust and desire mingles in the air.”

Cloud averted his eyes, embarrassed, staring at his hands. He didn’t know what to say in response. But _yes_ , more than _anything_ , he wanted to go with Sephiroth. He wanted Sephiroth. He could feel he belonged with him.

“Don’t deny it, puppet. You need not hide your true feelings. I feel the same.”

“You do?” He couldn’t help it. Embarrassment aside, Cloud tilted his chin to look up at the other man, eyes hopeful.

“You are beautiful, Cloud. And you are mine.”

With those soft words, Sephiroth shamelessly leaned forward, moving his hand to Cloud’s throat and cupping his chin. Cloud couldn’t look away or close his eyes. His body completely submitted, complying with the silent command. The fae’s plush lips brushed his in a gentle, chaste kiss.

That was all it took for the adolescent’s body to respond in kind. Lust unlike he’d ever felt churned in his gut, sinking from his stomach into his groin, igniting like a forest fire. A whimper escaped Cloud’s lips as he returned the kiss and pressed his lips eagerly (and sloppily) to Sephiroth’s once again.

An unearthly, beastly growl vibrated in the air between them. It made Cloud’s hair stand on end, and a soft whine escaped from Cloud’s throat in response. It was a submissive sound that had been pulled from him, but Cloud didn’t hate the feeling. He _loved_ it, _relished_ it, _exalted_ in it.

“ _Please_.” A voice soft and pleading floated between their lips, and Fenrir whined. Cloud was brought back to reality—as if his head settled firmly back on his shoulders—at the sound of the wolf. He was alarmed by his body's response and wondered if it was inappropriate, if he had offended the fae. But Sephiroth looked pleased—to a point of looking smug.

“You do feel it. Tell me, Cloud, do you think of me at night? Do you fantasize about me, holding you in my arms? Ravishing you?” The words sounded filthy in the fae’s husky voice and laced with a growl. Cloud felt at once frightened and aroused.

“Yes,” he admitted, still feeling his cheeks burn.

Sephiroth pulled away after a few more kisses and placed his hand on Cloud’s blackened eye.

“You have been fighting back, I see. Poor puppet. Shall I heal it for you?”

Cloud was surprised but nodded his head. The silver-haired man brushed his fingers over the bruised skin, and Cloud felt a glowing warmth blossoming there. His skin tingled as the swelling decreased. He watched the fae’s eyes and marveled at the compassion on his face. Maybe it wasn’t compassion. His mother often looked at him with compassion. This looked more like _ownership_. But if it was Sephiroth, Cloud was sure he could handle that. He _wanted_ it.

They spent close to an hour in the forest, Cloud answering Sephiroth’s questions about his life and Fenrir, listening with more pleasure than he would admit to the low voice. Sephiroth was magical. He sounded magical. No one had ever bullied the powerful fae, Cloud was certain. If he convinced the fae to stay with him, no one would bully him, either.

The two also spent more time kissing—Cloud instigating a few on his own and feeling very grown-up, timidly reaching out to run his fingers through the silky river of hair. _Better than any dream,_ Cloud thought. He fantasized about doing more, touching more, being touched more—and then he no longer had to wonder how it would feel when a gloved hand slipped up under his coat and his shirt.

The supple leather against the bare skin of his torso should have felt cold. Instead, the fae’s fingers left behind a trail of heat that combined with tingling sensations. No one had ever touched Cloud to arouse him before, and the adolescent wasn’t sure how to react. He felt confused and bewildered by his feelings and utter desperation—why was his body so desperate? He couldn’t deny his attraction to his silver-haired friend. Seeing the fae in person solidified what he’d already gathered about his natural preferences. The fact that the fae wasn’t upset or shocked and appalled by his feelings meant the world to him and boosted his confidence.

“Sephiroth."

The fae planted soft kisses on his face—cheeks, lips, chin, forehead, nose, even his eyelids. Cloud closed his eyes and found that he felt even more—each finger and a thumb sliding against his slim torso, wrapping around his waist, touching to soothe rather than to arouse and excite. The boy found it helplessly arousing, regardless of the intent. Sooner than he preferred, the hand pulled back, hesitating, before fixing his pajama top and pulling his coat closed.

“ _Please_ ,” Cloud whispered, despite the remnants of his embarrassment, cheeks flushed with combined arousal.

“Cloud.” Just his name spoken in that gentle voice sent a wave of pleasure down his spine. “We will have all the time in the world. But you should get back home.”

“Please,” the blonde insisted, hopefully, grabbing onto much larger hands.

A soft chuckle filled his ears, and he was pulled close. Sephiroth smelled of flowers—spring flowers, like lilacs. It was captivating.

“Patience, puppet. In good time, when you are ready, I will make you come completely undone with pleasure.” The promise felt almost as good as physical touch. “It is not safe for me to commune with you—not in this realm, not at your age. I am obliged to fulfill the contract I made.”

Cloud looked up to meet Sephiroth’s eyes, sighing but trying to withhold his disappointment.

“At least I’ll have something to look forward to,” he mumbled. “But can’t you stay with me?”

“I will walk you home and leave you in Fenrir’s capable... paws.”

Fenrir wouldn’t be able to touch Cloud that way, however, and the blonde sagged against the larger man, trying to keep him from moving. Effortlessly, the tall man stood, pulling the younger to his feet as if he weighed nothing. The power behind the fae’s simple movement—his firm muscles and build—sent additional waves of desire through the younger boy. He wasn’t sure but, pulled against the fae this closely, Cloud thought he felt an erection pressing against his belly. The very idea that someone so beautiful could desire him was too much to bear, and scattered tears sparkled on his golden lashes.

“Hush now. You will be fine. And when I return, you will come with me.” Sephiroth was already leading them back to the cottage.

“But I want to go with you _now_ ,” Cloud said, covering up his soft sobs as much as he could. “N-not just to be, um, physical with you, but there is _nothing_ for me here. Besides, many boys leave home for apprenticeships at my age in this village.”

“Cloud, age isn’t as much the issue as it is to hold to the contract with your mother. And you must keep our friendship from her. Do you understand?”

The blonde nodded, sadly. He still really wanted Sephiroth to help him escape this village where he’d never be accepted.

“Good. Just a few more years. Enjoy them while you have them.”

Cloud didn’t want the fae to leave, but Sephiroth just smiled and kissed his nose once more outside the cottage’s back door, encouraging him to go back to bed. Cloud complied reluctantly, once inside rushing upstairs to peek out the window and watch as the shimmering, silver hair disappeared into the woods.

All he could think about was the sound of Sephiroth’s voice, the strange deep growling, the touch of his gloved fingers and his lips on his skin. After relieving his arousal, Cloud eventually drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The sixth time the fae met Cloud was on his sixteenth birthday. Since their last meeting, Cloud had felt resentful toward his mother, irritated that he’d grown up in the same house, that she was his _only_ human friend in Nibelheim, and that she had never confessed to the bargain she’d struck with Sephiroth.

He wasn’t direct about it, but she certainly noticed his reticence. She tried to write off his attitude as typical rebellion and really, it was mild and age-appropriate. Claudia had no intention of honoring her side of the bargain with the fae. She lived for her son and wanted him by her side—or close to it—always. She imagined he might marry an older girl in the village—someone kinder and less abrasive than the mayor’s daughter, and the three of them would share the cottage while she watched her grandchildren grow up. When Cloud did not respond to any of her questions about the girls in his class and now, not even about Tifa, it never occurred to her that perhaps her son’s interests might lie in another direction.

Despite their rocky relationship, Claudia did her best. The end of the summer was approaching, before the harvest, but she saved her hard-earned money and purchased a book of fairytales for his birthday. It bothered her that he seemed to have such an interest in books about the fae folk, and she often wondered if her meeting with the silver-haired fae had imprinted on his subconscious. She tried not to think too much about it. As the day approached, she began to worry when Cloud would wander from home and stay out past dark.

“Cloud,” she said one evening, about a week before his birthday. “Please don’t wander so much in the forest. It isn’t safe.”

“Mother,” he grumbled, “I have Fenrir. And I can hunt now and protect myself. I’m almost of legal age.”

“I know. I believe in you. But you’re _all_ I have.”

As was his custom, her son would not respond and instead, get a far-away look in his eyes. She tried not to worry, but she couldn’t help it.

“Cloud, please don’t answer the door unless I am home,” she said, three days before his birthday. She’d been rushing to answer any knocks before Cloud could even get up. Even her son noticed it was strange.

“You worry too much,” was all he said to her. He had grown into an attractive young man, and his mother’s heart squeezed when she thought she might soon lose him.

Finally, the day came. Cloud was excited but tried to hide it. He had asked about his father with renewed interest and only received vague answers. Cloud’s father had been in the military and was killed in action before they could be wed. Claudia was left as a single mother without the financial benefits due to a surviving spouse since she had conceived before his father went off to war.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Since acquiring Fenrir as part of the household, Nibel stew wasn’t as appetizing as it once had been. Cloud hated to imagine eating his pet, and Claudia had grown to love the wolf. He was a great friend to her quiet boy, and she trusted the wolf to look after him. So they avoided dishes requiring the local staple of wolf meat. With the eggs and milk from the farm animals, they always had enough food on their table. Between them, after dinner, there was a homemade cake on the table, lit with a single candle. To Claudia’s relief, no one had been hanging around their house. She hadn’t seen the eerie fae since she first requested his help, but she wasn’t so naive to think he’d forgotten the contract.

“Thanks, Mom,” Cloud murmured.

“Go on,” she urged. “Make a wish and blow out your candle.”

Cloud smiled and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment before blowing out the candle. Of course, Cloud wished for the fae’s appearance, excitement and anxiety mingling in his chest.

“You're my good boy,” she replied. Her face was more lined and tired than usual, Cloud noticed. She’d often wear a sad look on her face when she thought he wasn't looking. _Well_ , Cloud thought, _it is her own fault if she was willing to give me away!_

She served up two thick slices of the rich, yellow cake with buttercream frosting. He waited for her to sit down and take the first bite, as was polite. When the frosted cake melted in his mouth, Cloud thought he might miss his mother if he was never able to see her again. They sat in silence until Claudia attempted conversation.

“You’re sure you didn’t want Tifa to join us? She seems to like you.”

“Mom, her dad _hates_ me. Since the accident, she barely tolerates me and mostly ignores me. I’d rather spend the time with just you.”

“You’ve always meant the world to me, Stormcloud.” She stood up from the table and walked around to Cloud’s place, pulling him into her arms. She smelled like home—like freshly baked cake and stew. “I can’t believe you’re all grown up.”

“Mom,” he complained, but he made no effort to escape her hug.

“Stormcloud, I need you to make me a promise.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you will _never_ leave me. Don’t be tempted by any traveling folk who might stop in the village. Don’t go with them. Please.”

“Mom?” Cloud understood that his mother was worried about him—and about the contract she’d made with Sephiroth.

“Just promise me,” she insisted. “I know you’re of age and you can do as you like and go where you want. But please, promise you will talk to me before making any big changes.”

“Of course, Mom. I love you.” He spoke after a brief pause. He wouldn’t hesitate to leave with Sephiroth, but he was confident the fae would allow him a proper goodbye before whisking him away to the land of the fae.

“I love you, too.” She finally released him and tipped up his chin so he could meet her clear gaze. “You have grown into such a handsome young man. You remind me of your father.”

Cloud blushed and averted his eyes, both pleased and embarrassed by the compliment. When she released him, Cloud stood to help her with the dishes.

“Not tonight, honey. Curl up by the fire and read your new book. I’ll get the dishes.”

He had no reason to complain and so headed into the living room. The book on the table was a lovely illustrated tome of fairytales. He sat on the couch, surprised by an unseasonable chill drifting through the room, and pulled a blanket up over his knees. While listening to the familiar sounds of water splashing and dishes clanking from the next room, Cloud found he could not concentrate on reading. So he paged through the book, admiring the gorgeous illustrations.

To his surprise, he recognized the silver-haired man in one of the drawings. He was dressed in black, wearing a cloak with the hood pulled down, his silver hair spilling majestically over his shoulders and down his back. His trademark green eyes stared back at him from the page, stealing Cloud’s breath. He suppressed a gasp when he saw the likeness. He was a gorgeous man. But in this picture, he was drawn with claws and gigantic wings—huge, gorgeous wings covered in black feathers. They were nothing like the gossamer wings he’d assumed all faeries had. He pulled the book up closer to examine the details. He’d never seen Sephiroth’s wings, but he could imagine them covering him—covering his naked skin when he was pulled up against the fae’s body and held in his arms.

“Cloud?” His mother interrupted his lurid thought, appearing over his shoulder and startling him. He felt as if she’d walked in on him touching himself and struggled to hide the illustration. “Cloud? What...?”

His mother grabbed the book, pressing it down against his lap before he could close it.

“It’s _him_ ,” she whispered, low-level fear unhidden. “Why are you staring at that picture?”

Cloud examined the caption which read, “Sephiroth, King of the Fae. As king, he holds greater magic than other faeries and sprites. He is known for his ruthlessness. While he has been known to lend a helping hand to humans in need, he charges a hefty price in return. He is rarely seen in the apparent realm.”

First, Sephiroth was the king? If that was the case, what did he want with Cloud? Second, the description seemed wrong. “Ruthless” was not a word Cloud associated with the man who stalked his dreams and fantasies. And he had been stalking them— _relentlessly_ —since his last visit.

“Oh,” Cloud brushed off her concern. “I’ve had dreams of him. It seemed weird. He looked different, though. He had regular hands and I never saw any wings. Isn’t it weird he has feathers? He looks like an angel.”

“Oh, Cloud,” Claudia sighed. Her tone made him look around, and he saw tears in her eyes. “Cloud, I must tell you something.”

The blonde waited patiently while his mother sat down next to him on the sofa. When she took a seat, another chill drifted through the room, and all the hair on the back of the blonde’s neck stood on end. When the knock came at the door, Cloud lept to his feet. He knew it was Sephiroth!

“No—Cloud— _wait_!”

But he ignored his mother’s wishes, answering the door before she could even get up. He was even able to ignore the anguish in her voice. In the dusk outside, dressed in his usual black leather, Sephiroth waited patiently. He lowered his hood, giving Cloud a broad smile that showed off pointed canines. _Fangs?_ Cloud thought. He’d never noticed fangs before.

“My precious Cloud,” his low voice purred.

Beside himself with glee and unable to hold himself back, the blonde threw himself into Sephiroth’s open arms. The young man didn’t hear his mother’s horrified gasp behind him. Sephiroth chuckled low and pulled Cloud into the hallway, stroking his hair fondly as a lover might.

“Patience, pet. We have time to give your mother a proper farewell.”

“Please— _no_ ,” Claudia said, desperation leaking from her pores. She was utterly confused at Cloud’s response to the fae. It was so familiar! “How do you know my son?!”

“It is custom to keep an eye on our investments as they grow to maturity,” Sephiroth explained calmly. “You have done well in raising him. He will be perfect.”

“Please! He is _all_ I have! You _cannot_ take him from me!” Claudia’s confusion doubled when Fenrir scampered into the living room from the kitchen, rubbing against the tall man’s legs and wagging his tail.

“Fenrir,” Sephiroth greeted. “You have done your job well. I will ask you to stay behind and look after Cloud’s mother.”

Fenrir whimpered and whined, pressing his nose against the back of Cloud’s legs, unable to reach his hands since they were wrapped around the slender fae’s waist—beneath his cloak, Claudia noticed with shock.

“He _knows_ you,” she said, slightly awed.

Sephiroth simply nodded. “He recognized me every time I checked on Cloud.”

“Please don’t take my son from me!” His mother cried again. “I only _ever_ made that bargain with you because he would have died if I hadn’t!”

“It was a sensible choice,” Sephiroth replied. “You both would have starved if you had not come to me. And now, he will live forever. You have given him eternal life.”

“But—”

“It’s much too late, woman,” the fae continued. “Once he has made the transition, perhaps I will allow him to visit. But it will take time. I'll remind you, time moves differently in our realm.”

Tenderly, Sephiroth carded his fingers through his precious beloved’s hair, arranging the spikes in every way, astounded by their beauty. Cloud had grown another few inches but was slender and beautiful, sculpted and muscular. He would be _perfect_ —made only more perfect after his transition. Yes, Sephiroth had made the right choice.

The aura surrounding Cloud was bright gold—a mature, shimmering shade—threaded through with warm pink. That delighted Sephiroth to no end. He wouldn’t have to enchant him to make him _his_.

“Go on, Cloud. It is time. Kiss your mother and make your farewell to Fenrir.”

It was several minutes before Cloud released Sephiroth to do as he was asked. Claudia barely recognized her son when he hugged her and kissed her cheek. The glow on his cheeks made him look radiant and magical—and she wondered if the fae had already enchanted her boy.

“Please, Cloud. Don’t go,” she whimpered.

“Mom. I _want_ to go. Don’t worry. You know I don’t belong here. I have _never_ belonged here. I don’t fit in. You will have it much easier without me. You can live your life without the stigma of being an unwed mother. You will find happiness.”

“Cloud!”

But her son was adamant. He knelt beside Fenrir and hugged his neck, the dog snuffling at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, tickling him.

“I will miss you, Fenrir. But you will keep Mother company, won’t you?”

Fenrir whined and yipped.

“You won’t need anything where we are going,” Sephiroth said. “Material goods from the apparent realm do not travel across dimensions easily. And I have everything ready for you, my Cloud.”

Despite the look approaching ecstasy on her son’s face, Claudia didn’t want to let her boy leave.

“ _Please_ ,” she begged.

Sephiroth interrupted easily, his voice calmer and softer the more desperate she became.

“Don’t make this difficult on your son,” he urged. “He wants to come with me. He has a home there. He will live eternally by my side and I will treasure him. I have grown to love him. You need not fear for his safety or happiness.”

He _loved_ her boy?! The fae loved him? Was the feeling mutual? Claudia took a careful look at her son’s face. Indeed, he looked so much like his father at that moment—the look his father wore the night Cloud was conceived. He was beautiful and in love. And he was spoken for. She had given him away in exchange for his life.

“Cloud,” she cried, willing the tears away so she might remember her boy’s face clearly for all time.

“I will allow him to return once he is settled,” Sephiroth assured her.

What kind of person was the king of the fae? He had a soft look on his face, surely, and it looked as if he loved her son. But for how long? What would happen if Cloud stood up to him? She knew her son could be stubborn and willful. Would he be punished? Would he be harmed?

“It is much too late for those thoughts, Claudia,” the fae whispered. “Come, Cloud.”

He turned toward the door and held out his hand, which Cloud grasped eagerly.

“I love you, Mom. Thank you—for saving me, for taking care of me, for loving me. I will see you soon,” he said softly, looking back over his shoulder.

When the pair was outside, giant black wings sprung into existence behind Sephiroth. Cloud giggled in delight and ran his fingers through the soft feathers, unafraid of the beast who was stealing him from his home. Sephiroth’s form covered the smaller man’s, and he wrapped his arms around him, landing a tender kiss on the top of his blonde head.

With the near-silent whisper of feathered wings, barely louder than those of an owl, the king of the fae lifted off the round, taking his beloved from his home and his village. Claudia watched them until they were no longer in view, tears falling down her cheeks. Long after dark, the woman stood outside her cottage and wept.


End file.
